Memories of Blue and Purple
by CanusFalcon
Summary: Jongyoon: A fight. He falls. He loses his memory-for three entire years. This day, he could see blue and purple-after that particular dream. She knows something is different, but tries ignoring it-That's day 1. The subsequent days? He's released from the hospital, he sees all colours. But he knows to associate blue and purple with her-the girl he still loves.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Actually, visit the Asianfanfics posting for the desired result of the formatting. Damn FFN

* * *

**Memories of** **Blue** **and** **Purple**

**I**

* * *

"_No matter how much suffering you went through, you never wanted to let go of those memories." -Haruki Murakami_

* * *

_She was lying in front of him, her body sprinkled with purple bruises. Her dark hair was damp and covered most of her face, save for her lips. They were so very blue. He wanted to caress her lips, let the blood turn them pink again. He wanted to warm her, reassure her that everything would be alright from here._

_She whimpered slightly and shifted towards him, and he felt endlessly protective. He wanted to shield her from the world's horrors, but he found that he wasn't able to move._

_His own pale skin was covered with blue and black specks. His head hurt, and badly. He could barely feel the coagulated blood in his mouth, he felt so cold, so numb. He knew he was bleeding…_

"_There you are!" The laughter was wicked and harsh. A man's vindictive snarl reached his ears, and he saw the blue jeans launch towards his head…_

_He desperately wants to hold on to his consciousness._

_He wants to._

_So badly._

"_Hang on, stay with us! Jonghyun!" Yonghwa's voice._

_He wants to remember being part of CNBLUE._

_Minhyuk._

_Jungshin._

_Yonghwa._

_He also wants to remember being Yoona's boyfriend._

_Her boyfriend._

_His world._

_She was his._

_He was hers._

_But… the pain, oh, the blinding, searing pain._

_Flashes of white._

_Then it's so dark, again._

_It was overwhelming,_

_The numbness._

_It was taking over him._

_Washing over him._

_In waves and shocks._

_He couldn't do it anymore._

_He couldn't hold on to that rope that tethered his thoughts to the pier._

_Yoona._

_Yoona._

_Yoona._

_He let go, screaming soundlessly._

_Screaming. Soundlessly._

_No one could hear him._

_Yoona!_

_Yoona…!_

_Yoona….!_

_Yoona…_

_Yoona._

_He was lost, in the deep blue sea._

_He loses himself to the world of blue and purple, of his bruises and pain-_

* * *

The figure thrashed around on his bed.

The dream shifts.

He stops thrashing.

* * *

"_You know, blue and purple had always been my favorite colors," she remarked casually as she rearranged the books on the table according to the color of their bindings._

_He was looking at the pile of books on the table, trying his best not to look at her. The books had blue and purple bindings and were each as thick as the sides of his electric guitar's body._

"_Mm," he made a sound of acknowledgement, and took the books from her. He gives a grunt as the weight pulls him down, but hurriedly hides his discomfort with a cough. He didn't want her to see him as a weak man, after all._

"_I like blue too," he continues._

_He walks in the opposite direction, towards the brown mahogany shelf. A smile played on his face as he thinks of something he's been planning to do for a while-_

* * *

Jonghyun woke with a strangled gasp, breathing heavily. He shot to a sitting position-straightening his back like a ramrod.

What was that?

He didn't know. He taps his head, trying to think. What was that?

His head was hurting him. It made him wince, and he tugged on his shaggy black hair. What was it?

Then the answer came to him-_a memory_.

A memory. Wait, that was new. For all he knew, he didn't have memories, save for that… painful little nightmare. He somehow knows that it's a recurring one.

Jonghyun looks around the room. Everything was in black, white and grey. That was slightly discomfiting to say the least. Was everything supposed to be… colorless?

_No-_his mind presented him with the answer again. His _memories had_ been in color. Not everything should be in black and white. No, no, no.

His head hurt even more as he realizes that.

He gives a sweeping glance across the room. His vision was achromatic. It was bleached, washed out.

He so wished he could see some color.

Wait, there it was. His breath catches as he spots the speck of blue. He gets up and tries walking toward it.

His legs gave beneath him and he stumbled. His leg muscles were oddly weak, almost jelly-like. Then he notices where he had been lying on moments ago.

He was sitting on a bed, with an overly soft pillow and a mattress stiffer than basalt. He supposes that even in a world of Technicolor, the sheets would be white as well. They looked white enough in his grayed out vision anyhow. The bedside table is empty, and stark white.

Where was he? What time was it? He vaguely notes that there was a memory that stretched back to his childhood, telling him to note the '1H and 5Ws,"-'where, when, which, what, who and how.'

None of those questions could be answered then and there.

Where was he? What was the date? What was the time? What was he doing here? What is he going to do? Who was that girl? And who was he? He didn't even bother trying with a 'how' or 'which'-again, some childhood memory tells him that he never liked to fill in those two blanks in some worksheet as homework.

He tries getting up again, this time succeeding. His legs wobbled slightly as he stands. He notes that his skin is almost as white as the sheets were. He steadies himself as blood courses through his body to his legs.

Another flash of his childhood comes to him, again something relating to schoolwork. Maybe, that little bit of information didn't come from his 'childhood', more like a teenage memory… A Biology teacher explaining the circulatory system of man, where under systole, the ventricles of a heart would… contract? And the pressure of blood rises so that the blood, upon leaving the semi-lunar valves… would enter the aorta and subsequently join to the peripheral arteries-allowing blood to flow through his legs.

He groans, in frustration more than anything. He could remember snippets of his Biology lessons, seeing himself in a room full of students, both male and female with black hair and wore white uniforms-and he couldn't remember who he actually was? He knew that he was supposed to have a name. Those tags on the student's uniforms so obviously held their names-_Jang Hae-mi, Kim Seul-do, Nam Ji-sang, Kim Jun-hae…_

Who was he?

The answer didn't come to him, not yet.

He sighs. He thrusts those thoughts away for a moment and went to examine the blue object. It was a blue thread.

A blue thread? He looks down at himself and realizes he was wearing a blue gown. His mind whirled again and he sat down to reorient his thoughts.

Okay, so the gown he was wearing… he concludes that it was a hospital gown. No wonder it felt so scratchy. And was that why the room was so bare? This was most definitely not a home anyone could live in-it was a hospital room. Bare and stripped of all personal additions, with only the basic necessities for… _survival_. It wasn't a place fit for living. It was the epitome of impersonal. The emptiness of the room got to him; put him on an edge.

He notes that he shouldn't expect much company, if he did receive any at all-there were only two chairs in the room. One was for visitors, or relaxation purposes maybe. The other chair was stiff-backed, but had a cushion on it, and was placed in front of a table.

He deduces that he was in a private ward, but he notices the jarring lack of machinery, save for the CCTV camera on the wall. There wasn't any heart-monitoring machine and he couldn't spy any transmitter in sight. There was also a strange lack of cupboards that he would suppose could be found in a hospital to store spare uniforms and medicine. He saw that there was a button on the wall, covered by transparent plastic and it said "**For Emergencies**".

What sort of emergencies?

Why was he here?

The relentless throbbing in his head resumed as he tried to figure out the answers to those questions. The headache was really rather intractable.

A persistent question that nagged at him was-what time was it?

_SLAM! _He remembers another snippet of memory, where he was in a sea of blue lights; he was standing on a stage…

That's right.

He was Lee Jonghyun, the guitarist of CNBLUE.

He gaped at that realization-he was_ famous_. Bloody famous, from the looks of the memory.

_He was standing on top of a stage, letting his left hand fly over the frets of the guitar. His right hand held a blue pick and it moved quickly, with unequaled precision, over the strings. The crowd was frenzied and was screaming-though he couldn't actually hear them with his earbuds on. The only thing he could hear were what the other members were playing, Jungshin's bass, Minhyuk's drumming and Yonghwa's crooning-into-the-mic-sort-of singing._

_But he didn't mind. He could hear all of them all the same. He was riding on euphoria, their unconditional adoration. He was wondering what would happen if he leapt into the crowd… Not that he would try, of course. Instead, he knelt in front of them, like he was serenading them with the guitar. Their passion impassioned him, made his senses go on overdrive._

_He watched as their left hands held a blue CNBLUE light stick and their right hands leaned forward, as if trying to grab him. Maybe that was what they were trying to do…_

He remembers having his short blonde hair matted with sweat. He touched his hair once more; it was now dark, and hung past his chin in almost-greasy clumps.

Why was there only one chair in the room? Did his members visit him here?

Just how long had he actually been in this room? Was he confined here?

Then he gulped. Was this some psychiatric ward or other?

He leapt to his feet, and raced for the blinds. He drew the blinds open and looks at the window. It was barred, but it was a window nonetheless. He notes that his room was on the first floor, and he could see that it was bright outside. The static blinds had previously blocked all the light from entering the room, but now, the sunlight filtered in and he could see the specks of dust floating about. He blinked at the light. It looked as if the white of the room was intensified.

Outside, he could see a garden. A garden with a small fountain and six huge trees, with people milling about, and most of them were laughing as they strolled languidly along the garden's cobblestone paths. He spies a sparrow twittering about in a branch of the second tree from the right.

He smiles slightly at the sight of two children running after a small Pembroke Welsh Corgi, its short, stumpy legs attempting to flee from the obviously sticky hands of the children. The dog is finally captured by the children and it makes an expression of mock pain as the children display their exuberance by embracing the dog, but it seems to be yelping in joy.

He abandons monitoring them and looks at the sky. It was so very blue. He wonders if he going to be able to see purple? His theory- the girl in his memory said she liked blue and purple, and since he was able to see blue, he might be able to see purple as well.

So far, he didn't spot anything purple yet. Would it kill those people to wear something purple? He sighed. They wouldn't know that he was dying to see someone wear something purple.

What _was _the time, exactly?

Then a knock sounded. "Mr. Lee, you have your visitor for today!" The voice was falsely cheery-A nurse who worked here, but couldn't wait to find another job and never set her sight on another hospital again.

The door opened with a loud creak and he winced; the door was really in dire need of some oiling.

A person walked in, wearing purple shoes. Even from watching her walk, he could instantly tell that she was nervous. He lets his eyes travel up her purple sundress and the white cardigan shrouding it. His eyes come to rest on her face. He almost recoiled at seeing the purple that she had worn, but her name jumps immediately into his head. _Im Yoona_.

Was the cardigan actually white? His frustration grows at not knowing. It might be white. Then again, it could be cream colored, or light blue, or light lavender…

He doesn't know what to say. He didn't even know who she was to him. He knew she was famous, that much was sure. His teenage memories told him that even during his school days, she was a famous _idol_. What did 'idol' mean anyway?

"Hello, good morning Jonghyun," she smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

"Hello," he returned. "You're wearing a purple dress."

He thinks that she's really rather gorgeous. No, he corrects himself hastily. She was beautiful. Look at her! Her eyes were perfect, the asymmetry making her gain a perpetual inquisitive and curious look. Her nose was small, refined and well defined all at the same time. Were noses able to exude feminineness? He doubted that it would in any other individual. Her mouth was perfect, a soft, pink little bow.

She looked at him with a strange expression. Maybe he shouldn't have been staring, especially not with such intensity. He shouldn't scrutinize her, not when she was simply visiting him.

They motion for each other to sit down before she speaks first, "Yes, I am. The weather's still fairly warm for late September. How are you doing today?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. But wouldn't you tell me your name?" Then before she could reply, he continues, "But you're Yoona… right? If I'm not wrong, you are Im Yoona."

She nods, her eyes looking more fearful than before. He's thrown off by that, he's not sure why she looked even more nervous and terrified. She looks almost like a cornered mouse. She looks ready to cry. The brown orbs in her doe-like eyes reflected her tears, and her mouth was quivering at the edges. She was keeping a façade for him, he realizes. Why?

"Yes, I am Yoona." She acknowledged that and nodded at him.

The air was tense, but he gave a response to her first question, "I don't feel well. Not… in a bodily sense, you know? Nah, maybe you wouldn't know… but I feel as if something is wrong with me, more precisely, my head feels off. I don't think that my world is supposed to be all grey and non-colored…"

"It isn't," she confirmed, her voice… was now harder. It was almost as if she was forcing her voice to stay steady, and overdid it. It amused him, just a little bit.

"But I see colors. Blue and purple," he looked at her squarely in the eyes, and she doesn't look down. Her gaze was almost challenging, somehow. "Those are the only colors I see. Blue and purple…" He doesn't divulge that in his memory, a girl was talking about her favorite colors being blue and purple.

Then it hits him, it was her. The voice belonged to her. He speaks again, before she could and this effectively shuts her up. "But they _are _your favorite colors, aren't they?"

"They were my favorite colors…" Her voice was soft and quiet, and held a hint of nostalgia to it. She finally looked down, losing their little staring match.

He wonders what had happened to change that. Wasn't she wearing purple right now? Then again, no one wears their favorite colors all the time. He changes the topic, "How long have I been… here? This is a hospital right? Why am I here?"

She tore her gaze away from him and looked out of the window. "You've never opened the blinds before three in the afternoon before. Never." A moment of silences passes before she continues even more quietly and answered his question. "Three years."

His breath hitches. Three years? He's been in this… this place… for three years?

Impossible.

~oOo~

She continues looking out of the window. For three years, ever since they were both declared 'healthy' enough, he's been here. She scoffs at that notion-healthy? Right. Physically, they might fit that criteria. But dredge up the mental or psychological issues and they might just require a sanitorium.

It was her fault that he was here.

The people who had decided to ruin their lives had come for _her_, to take her. The security was slack that day, it being Chuseok. They had all been dying to go home, to return to their families. They had all wanted to celebrate the holiday and were rather impatient. After all, no one had tried to breach security for the past few years; surely, they wouldn't try to harm Im Yoona now?

"_The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward_._" _ At least, she had read about that quote from Steve Maraboli online during a period of mental convalesce-which had largely failed. Jonghyun had always searched up quotes, and that habit rubbed off on her.

Yoona never wanted to blame anyone, but it was hard. Considering that one party's remiss, and the other's flippant decision to commit such an act of aggression, had tormented her for three years and eight days.

The Chuseok three years ago, she and Jonghyun were in the same building. He was helping her organize her books, and he had been reminded of the colors she liked best. A little late for her boyfriend of a year eight months to inform him of such a trivial fact, but he had known nonetheless. She had never explicitly told him that she liked blue and purple before that day. She assumed that he would know, the internet did announce it to the rest of the world after all.

They were laughing, cracking merry jokes. He seemed to be hiding something from her though, but she didn't know what. She didn't mind, it didn't seem as if it was something all that serious for her to be concerned over.

Then the door was flung open and a horde of men barged in, grabbing her forcefully and then dragging her away. Jonghyun went ballistic and launched himself at them. He knocked quite a few of them down too, she remembers sadly, but with a touch of pride. He lashed out at them viciously, aiming to harm as many of them as possible as he protected her.

He was like a whirlwind, punching and kicking. They fell like bowling pins to that heavy ball. But, the sweeper swept everything away in the end. The men outnumbered him too greatly. She remembers screaming as they started to hit him, tried to beat him within an inch of his life.

He never cried out, never winced. He never betrayed the pain he felt as they did so. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Her heart broke as she witnessed his battered form.

Then they launched themselves at her as well. They shoved her against a wall, and tried to pull… her pants down. She screamed. She screamed a lot that day. She tried tearing herself free…

It seemed to last forever.

Then, she heard him cry out, furious. No, he was roaring. His anger was unbridled and it blazed in his eyes.

His mouth was shattered; his dark hair (re-dyed from its previous blonde) was matted with sweat and crimson red blood. They didn't touch his nose-it was still unbroken, still straight. His eye was beaten black, of course. And it had already begun to swell. She saw ugly gaping wounds dotting his arms and legs, the blood that spouted had stained the ground around them, dirtied his designer clothing.

But he was still her angel.

He fended off her attackers furiously, and then wrenched her free. It had hurt when he did so, but she supposed there was no other option he could've taken. A few bruises on her wrists wouldn't hurt too much. They ran down the stairs, and they had reached the second floor, before three of the men caught up with them.

She watched, petrified, as he used the reserves of his strength to knock them out. She collapsed, and so did he, onto the ground. And that's when he, the mastermind of her misery, walked in, and delivered a swift kick to Jonghyun's head, sending him down the stairwell.

Tumbling.

He hit his head, and she screamed again, agony ripping through her. His eyes were closed. His pallid skin drained of color, only color being the blue-blacks, the purple bruises.

The broken ragdoll that was her boyfriend, lying on the ground, unmoving, muted her instantaneously as she froze on the spot.

The next second, she snapped. She pushed her assaulter backwards, and he fell too. But he caught himself before he plummeted to ground where Jonghyun was lying- _No, no, no! He wasn't dead!_ She had refused to acknowledge that he was dead.

She had been shaking so badly then; the terror gripping her, crushing all her other senses.

She didn't know it, but she had been screaming, and screaming, and screaming.

Shaking and screaming.

They came in then, the security. They had heard her cries. They had seen the CCTV footage.

All too late.

Contrary to what most people believed, Im Yoona had never resided in an ivory tower. She was very much human, just as Jonghyun was. She wasn't an elitist, never thought that her fame put her above others. She did not isolate herself, or place herself above everyone else. No, she felt just as anyone around her did; those emotions. Sure, three years _after_ she was now living in a sort of isolation, but that was to be expected.

No one else had lost their boyfriend of eight months in the way she had.

In the weeks that followed _that_ day, they didn't really know what to say to her. One could only take so many pitiful glances, hushed whispers and tense silence. Everyone treaded on eggshells around her. She was furious at them, why couldn't they walk like elephants? It wasn't as if she was going to fucking break!

She blinked.

She was swearing internally. She never did that. Never swore.

What brought about that? Was today different from all the other days?

_Yes, yes it was._

She looked curiously at her boyfriend-she supposed he was still her boyfriend. After all, they hadn't ever broken up. Something had changed today, and she knows it. She knows that he wasn't supposed to ask all these questions. And this change frightens her as much as they secretly… delight her.

They both remain silent for a while. He was shaking his head. Then he began rubbing his temples. Two times clockwise, thrice anticlockwise. Just as he always had.

She decides that she should speak first, and she steadies her voice again, "Three years," she murmured quietly as she repeats those two words. Three years that he's been here, in this room.

Was it fate? She wondered.

She felt the weak seams of her heart tearing slightly. Maybe, she never should've told herself that she wasn't coming tomorrow. Fate was giving her too much hope at the moment, daring her to hope that he was getting better. Those threads that held her heart together always threatened to break, they were weak, so very weak. Her heart bled ever so often.

"Three years, and you've never done anything different from the routine."

This seems to pique his curiosity and he asks, "What routine?"

She remembers waking up three years and eight days ago, exactly eight days after Chuseok with everyone by her bed. CNBLUE, SNSD, F(x), her father, her friends…

She had woken up before, but she had never seen Jonghyun by her bed as of yet. Never. The injuries she suffered were painful, but had been healing just well enough. She had wondered what became of Jonghyun-his state was so much more distressing than hers. The memory of his emaciated self flashed through her mind and she had shuddered slightly.

Someone hands her a sheet of paper. She recognizes the man as Jonghyun's father. His face was hard but he maintains his stoic expression. Jonghyun's mother was however, teary. She was dabbing her handkerchief at her eyes.

**To Mr. and Mrs. Lee,**

**Mr. Lee Jonghyun has been sent to a private hospital ward in XXX Hospital, Seoul. Necessary arrangements have already been made by FNC Entertainment to keep him monitored at the hospital for the duration of his recovery.**

**Status of Patient: Stable**

**Condition: Memory loss, possessing only his long term memory after waking from 5 day coma.**

**Thank you.**

**XXX Hospital, Seoul, South Korea.**

She remembers feeling something heave inside her, but she had nothing to hurl, having eaten nothing for eight days. IV drips didn't count as food, right?

She had taken to eating nothing for the next three days. On the fourth day, Minhyuk attempted to force feed her with fruits. She couldn't keep even a cherry down. The fifth day, she decided that she should sort her composure out, and she downed a small bowl of porridge that Krystal and Jessica attacked her with. She put on the mask she had been wearing for a thousand and ninety days.

In the three years, the hospital had come to the conclusion that he did the same things every single day. The first two weeks they had tried interfering with his routine, tried to give him some change, offering to let him do other things. But every day, he resumed his usual tasks unfailingly. His parents rarely visited. They said it hurt too much, to see a ghostly memory of a son who had once been. All his affairs rested in her hands, they had entrusted his hospital records to her, everything-seeing that she was in Seoul and they lived in Busan, anyhow.

Did they never think that it hurt her too?

**9.30 AM: Patient 121 wakes up** –It would mean that he did nothing till her visit at ten.

**10.15 AM: Visiting hours **–She would take him to the washroom and have him wash up. After that, he would inquire about his identity, his age. Who he was. She would tell him everything, and he'd apologize for not remembering. He was always so quiet and pensive during her visits. It wasn't him, and each day, it killed a little of her to see him like this.

Occasionally, his parents came. Make that once a year, during his birthday. Everyone he knew came then, and his eyes always showed a frenzied sort of fear and panic, but she'd calm him down. His members came, even if they had been in the army, they requested for a one day break, just to visit their mentally crippled member in the hospital, one member their hearts sorely missed.

**12 PM: Lunch, visitors would leave**

The Hospital treated him well and varied his diet accordingly. She had watched footage of him eating calmly, as if contemplating his current situation. He would finish his meal, (In the first tape she had watched, he had been served Gamjatang and rice)

**12.30 PM: Patient exercises**

Watching the CCTV footage, he had done whatever he could in that limited space. Mostly, he did jumping jacks. He would try push-ups, sit-ups, jogging… just whatever he could do in that confined space. He ran about a lot and even did some yoga.

**1.50 PM: Patient showers**

**2.15 PM: Patient sits down at desk with sheets of paper, starts to write**

Jonghyun would write songs. Even in his confinement, he was still a musical genius. He would sit down at his chair and hum to himself as he penned a melody and wrote down guide lyrics. He then left it there. The orderly who cleaned the room would retrieve those papers and give them to FNC.

To date, FNC had released many of his songs, in special albums dedicated to Jonghyun, or simply for FNC's other bands, like N. Flying and AOA. The songs were often melancholic and spoke of better days. Some days, they were happy songs, love songs even. Other days, they were songs that spoke of being repressed and confined-those songs always seem to strike a chord to those who listened to them.

CNBLUE and FT Island never accepted those songs, seeing that they had both decided to venture into the army as soon as they could. They wanted to avoid the reality that had become the fair skinned guitarist.

At least, no one would say that Jonghyun was talentless now. The public didn't _dare_.

**5 PM: Patient ignores tea set for him**

**7.00 PM Patient consumes dinner**

**7.20 PM: Patient washes up**

**7.30: Patient continues writing songs**

**11.40 PM: Patient sleeps for the night**

**Note: Patient seems to have nightmares each night**

The last note about the nightmares had bothered her.

He had already lost his memory. Surely, God would be kind enough to spare him a peaceful, uninterrupted sleep?

She decides to tell him what he usually did in a day. This was something she did in her other visits as well-tell him more about what he usually did. She relaxed as she fills him in on his daily routine; she derived a bizarre sense of comfort from this familiar chore, even if it made her feel wistful and melancholic.

He nodded, just as he always would.

This was normalcy. She continues talking, her voice steady, soft and soothing. As if she was talking to him as he was still asleep.

She always did this. It helped her detach herself from the world, it made it seem surreal. It didn't feel like she was in the room-she had done this, tell everyone else about what he did in the room so often that she could picture being outside the room, doing the same thing. It helped keep her sane, keep the memory of his cadaverous form out of her head.

Then he shifted, the sound of his feet rubbing against each other jerks her from her almost-reverie.

He suddenly asks, "Do I have my guitar with me?"

She held back the trepidation from her voice and nodded mutely. It took her a few more seconds to compose herself. "You can find your guitar in the case under your bed."

"Did I ever play for you?" He cocks his head slightly to the side. He looks slightly nervous as well, and it makes her panic all the more. It was all she could do to not quicken her breathing. She shook her head, 'no'.

"Then, do I still know how to play then?" He rubbed his head slightly and held his hand up hurriedly. "No, don't tell me. I do know how to play the guitar still, it's like riding a bike. Shall I play it for you today?"

~oOo~

He watches her intently. She looked as if she was going to faint. Her face was so very pale.

Even as she walked in, she appeared to be rather pasty, but he couldn't be sure. But now he could tell that she was blanching. Whatever… darker shade she had to her face was now gone, and she had gone really rather white. He would place bets that it wasn't the lighting of the room that had changed- it was indeed her growing increasingly ashen-faced.

He didn't understand. Was she scared? He didn't know. He didn't dare to ask.

Was she scared… that he was behaving differently from what he did usually?

Maybe.

What did he really feel for her? That bit still hasn't come back to him just yet.

All the same, he feels compelled to play for her, and maybe sing for her.

He doesn't know whether he could still sing well-did his voice change from the lack of usage? He guesses his singing skills would have deteriorated from the lack of practices and vocal exercises, but he's not so sure how it would impact his performance.

He gets up from his place in front of the desk and walks to his bed. He pulls out the guitar case, and he doesn't watch her expression. He wouldn't see the terror on her face, the way her masks collapses for a millisecond and threatens to make her break down in a flood of fresh tears.

He opens the case, and sees a dark blue guitar. He smiles wryly. Blue again. His guitar meant a lot to him then. He knows that she did mean a lot to him as well, he thinks that she is someone important to him. She hasn't revealed that bit of information yet; their relationship, and he has no intention of forcing it out of her.

His guitar strings weren't rusty. It had been three years. Someone must have changed them, did he do it himself?

He adjusted the tuning knobs. It was even almost-tuned, and that surprised him slightly. The acoustic guitar rested in his hands lightly, and fit snugly into his arms. It felt like a part of him.

He wants to tell her to calm down, but he doesn't know how to. Instead, he sings an old song that CNBLUE had, during their indie days, way back before they became famous. Back when he still had the shaggy black hair that he could liken to the one he was wearing now.

He sang a grammatically corrected version this time round and allowed himself to pluck the chords. It was an effortless movement. His fingers remembered more than his head did, apparently. However, this time, he corrected the grammar of some of the little phrases in the song.

"I know I've fallen in love when I see you with my eyes,  
I wanna make you, wanna feel the beauty- as you are  
Girl, I wanna tell you something I'm not a man who lies,  
I wanna love you, I wanna hold you, can you be a part of my life?

You can have it your way girl if you want,  
I don't wanna bend you girl, all your life, all my life…

I'll feel your love forever I wanna know how you're feeling  
(For me) This feeling is real, girl I'll need your love forever  
I can feel your heart So please breathe with me-forever…"

He stops suddenly, almost awkwardly. No, it was an awkward stop. And now an uncomfortable silence hangs in the air. Heck. He didn't know why he chose this song. He shook his head, and looks at her contritely.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what made me choose this song." He elucidated, "It was the first song that came to mind… One of the first songs we had. It's a song we had been familiar with..."

He didn't know what his heart was trying to tell him, but he saw her agonized expression and looked down, almost as if he had been slapped on the wrist, reprimanded. She got up abruptly, the chair scrapping against the ground and making a screeching noise. "Sorry, I… I got to go. There's something I have to do today." They both know it to be a lie, but neither of them commented on it.

She left the room hurriedly, taking quick but tremulous steps. He watched her leave, the purple swishing about...

Jonghyun sighed loudly, before covering his face with his hands, resuming a saturnine expression.

~oOo~

If this had happened for the past three years, she'd rather have been sentenced to perdition.

She hadn't meant to show such asperity, but she couldn't help herself. It was torture, to continue remaining in the room.

False hope was the last thing she needed.

~oOo~

The minutes always drag themselves by.

The sun seems to stay in the same position for forever.

An eternal blue is hanging over the vast sea of grey, black and white below.

They should get a clock.

Lee Jonghyun sat in front of the desk, his expression pensive as he tried formulating methods to get out of his little ward.

How should he get out of here?

He wanted out so badly. The hospital room was no more than a prison, keeping him confined in here. Even if it was only a short stroll in the park outside, he'd be able to breathe some fresh air. He had an inkling that he hadn't ever been out of the room in the past three years, save maybe for a checkup or something administrative related.

A psychiatric ward, he figures, wouldn't let a man who loses his memory every other day out of the ward. He hopes for his memory to stay. He hasn't given any indication to the nurses here that he behaved differently from his normal behavior, no. When the nurse came in earlier to serve his lunch, a tray of kimbap, he had accepted it with a curt nod, not looking into her eyes. She was dressed in white. He had later refused his tea, as per his usual behavior.

The sky outside has changed from the endless stretch of blue to its current stretch of grey, with a brilliantly white orb in the center. He got up quietly, and began pacing.

_One, two, three steps… then turn. One two three. One two three. One two three…_

Would he be able to remember _anything_ tomorrow?

He was terrified that he'd wake up with no recollection of anything tomorrow. He won't be freaking about it tomorrow, if he couldn't remember anything about today, but he so badly wants to remember today's events. He so wants to remember everything. It's his inclination, after all, to get sprung from this place and never look at these four white walls again.

A knock sounds on the door, and a different nurse walks in with his dinner on a tray. They've changed shifts already; this one looks refreshed, a nocturnal creature ready to combat the night. He stops pacing, regarding her carefully. It won't do any good to let his act slip. She smiles at him as she placed the tray down on the table he had previously faced.

"Good evening Lee Jonghyun-ssi, dinner. Do eat it well," He catches sight of her nametag.

He nods at her, shortly. "Thanks, Miss Won. What time will you be back to collect the tray?"

"According to my schedule, I should be back by… For you, it's special, apparently. I'm instructed to take the tray from your room at twenty past seven. I'm new, you see…" She looked slightly flustered. "I've just… never thought my nursing job would apply to meeting you. I had watched CNBLUE performing back when I was in High School. I should be going now, enjoy your meal."

"Wait, I have something to ask of you. Can you get me one blue and one purple object when you come back?"

She looked slightly nonplussed at his request, but slowly nods. "Are all of you patients this queer?"

"Should I feel offended at that? Maybe it's just me." He smiles good-naturedly, and he knows it disarms her. He's pretty sure that she had once been his fan.

She leaves, slowly. As if she was chanting a mantra in her head to remain calm, to not flee.

Then he looks at his dinner and grins inwardly at the sight of rice with grilled mushrooms and steamed chicken along with a bowl of bean sprout soup and a small platter of assorted fruits-yellow watermelon, papaya and grapes.

Was the watermelon grown locally? His fingers hover over the flesh of the watermelon. A piece of fruit could travel over large expanses of land, braving whatever odds there was for a piece of fruit to endure, before ending up in a plastic plate in a hospital's psychiatric ward, to be eaten by a patient who was constantly monitored by a CCTV installed on the wall. That irked him; however discreet it was, he had no privacy. Watermelons lead sad lives, don't they? Having to grow big and then being uprooted, journeying through a vast unknown just to end up being the dessert of a prisoner.

He wasn't a watermelon. He should be grateful.

But that treacherous voice in him snarled at him to get a move on, to get the hell out of here. Contentment was not satisfactory. A life without freedom was not for him. He was a bird in a gilded cage, being fed well, but never free. No liberties. No privacy. He could almost feel his wings trying to stretch, arch themselves so he could soar out. If he didn't get out of here, his wings might as well have been clamped. Why was a bird born with wings if it couldn't fly?

Such forms of imprisonment did wonders for his thoughts.

He needed out. Badly.

Suddenly, his formerly appetizing meal wasn't something he appreciated anymore.

Before he sleeps, he ties the purple ribbon around his ring finger and places the small, blue treble clef shaped keychain on the bedside table.

He thinks that he never really prayed back then, but God was all-forgiving and He would accept him, right? It's never too late to start, right? He had always believed that it was never too late. Nothing was ever too late.

He closes his eyes and clasps his hands, and murmurs, shrugging off the bizarreness of praying for his memory, or even hoping against all odds that it would work. Did he ever do this before today? He won't ever know, but he begins to murmur softly.

"Dear… God. This is me, Lee Jonghyun. Did I ever pray to you before today? I think I might've, but I'm not sure. That's why I pray that I get my memories back and that I'd keep them when I wake up tomorrow. I also pray that I'm going to be able to see more of blue and purple, even though they're her favourite colors," He stops for a moment, consolidating his thoughts properly.

Then he realizes he only wishes for one thing, well, it was technically two things-but they were the _same_ thing. "I want to know who she was to me. I want to get out of here. I want to remember. Above it all, I want my life back. In the name of Jesus we pray, Amen."

He squeezes his closed eyes after praying to a God he had never really believed in that he'd remember. No matter what happened before today, no matter what had happened for him to end up this way-he would want to remember.

Sleep is elusive to him that night, but he is finally granted that mercy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Memories of** **Blue** **and** **Purple**

**II**

* * *

"_Memo__ry was a curse, yes, he thought, but it was also the greatest gift._

_Because if you lost memory you lost everything."_

_-Anne Rice_

* * *

He wakes up with the jolt of realization that he could see colours. The beautiful myriad of all things illuminated by the golden sun. From the first sighting of his purple ribbon looped around his pale, almost white finger, the honeydew green gown he wore, to the cream coloured bed sheet (Well, it wasn't white, so he was wrong on the previous day) and then the blue treble clef keychain on the table.

Like a young child that was brought to the sea for the first time who sees the roaring sea, he stares in fascination and wonder at the world around him. Red, yellow, blue, green and all the colours that they can make up. His heart leaps. Beautiful.

He had leapt out of the bed and rushed into the adjoining bathroom, staring straight into the mirror and marvelling at the rich chocolate brown of his eyes. His excitement was still bubbling when he suddenly deflates, the little balloon of ecstasy popped quickly by the pinprick of his next realization.

He had lost his memory for three entire years. He groans as he leaned against the white tiles of the bathroom walls and shuts his eyes as he contemplates his next move.

Alright, now that he's proven that he's going to be able to retain his memories, what's the quickest way out? Even if he could get out-what should he do? Does he have a apartment in Seoul? He struggles a little as he digs the memory up-oh, he does. Yoona knows about it as well. But... did anyone sell the apartment?

He couldn't help but wonder if anyone has ever decided that they should dispose of all his things for a little financial gain simply because they lost all hope of him ever being... well, normal.

A lucid Lee Jonghyun who's able to articulate clearly, is aware of everything going around him and remembers everything... He doubts that they'd expect it. Hell. he didn't expect it himself. If whatever he had found out about his three year stay from Yoona had been true, he had been hopeless, with no indications given that his condition would improve.

He sighs, sinking to the cold tiled floor as he tries wrapping his head around everything. It was overwhelming, to say the least. His memory of yesterday was slightly foggy, but he knows that the him yesterday didn't know everything; he had flashes of everything, but that wasn't enough to put him in a position to realize that he had nothing. The Jonghyun of today knows that he has nothing. For three years, he didn't know anything, he didn't have anything, he _was_ nothing. Nothing.

Time wouldn't even stop for him; the world outside his confines had moved on.

It made him almost want to sob.

But he doesn't. Instead, he stands up with a renewed vigour.

This... this... this 'remembering'-it was a curse. He's made an absolute misery by it; now that he has got all facets of his life to ponder over, he doesn't know what to start on. On the flipside, it was a blessing-at the very least, he could now do something about it, fix his life.

Memory was a double-edged sword. It gave him pain. It gave him glimmers of hope. But above all, it could give him life.

He needs to formulate a plan for leaving.

Okay, 'formulate' was a little bit too far-fetched. Maybe.

He leaves the bathroom, saunters casually to the door; as if he wasn't going to do something that made his heart beat furiously against his chest. He tries the door, even though he knows it's a futile effort. There was an enigmatic smile on his face as he shrugs simply, and pushes the little button on the wall.

The accusatory silence that hung in the air screamed at him, telling him that he was making a wrong decision. For a split second, his heart seemed to stop as he waited. Maybe he has gone crazy after all, spending so much time in a house of nutcases. The next moment, a soft siren rang, and he saw the red light illuminating the ground in front of the door.

Should that be the moment in which he screams, 'Jackpot!' and does a fist pump and then the Macarena dance?

Okay, maybe he shouldn't. He hears frantic footsteps running down the corridor, along with their insistent mutterings, as he waits for the door to open-it was flung open by two nurses that he hadn't seen yesterday, along with an orderly and a doctor. Why did she need to bring so much backup anyway? It wasn't as if he was prone to throttling anyone... was he? Yoona didn't say if he was violent.

He doesn't know what he should do, but he raises his hands in the air. "Good morning, ladies and gentleman." Okay, he would try the road of gallantry, as well as trying to be cavalier about all this. "As you... know, I'm Lee Jonghyun. And I want to get out of here."

The nurse who opened the door smiles, falsely. The other three seemed to be assessing him, narrowing their eyes. "Good morning to you too. But I'm afraid-"

Oh, fine. Be that way. He wants to give a petulant retort, but he seems to have a notion that he needs to be diplomatic and show that he's... not deranged, as any other patient who'd push a button on the wall in this place would be.

He cuts the nurse off mid-sentence as he continues, "I want out. I remember everything, it started yesterday. Really. I'm _not_ lying, and I'm willing to comply to any tests or questioning you all may have so that I can get out of here."

They look distrustful as they listen to his short speech. He hopes bravado would pay off, such a false front he's putting up when inside, he feels withered and no different from a mound of Jell-O. The nurses glance at the doctor, as if waiting for him to make a verdict. The orderly looked bored, as if he had been hoping to restrain an inmate who had lost his mind, and was screaming and frothing at the mouth as he demanded an escape. The doctor nods slowly after a moment, slightly reluctantly as he motions for them to allow himself in.

The doctor tells him to sit and he complies. Hopefully, his compliance would help them believe that he wasn't insane. He would probably do anything that was within his legal means to get out of there, really.

He is instructed to sit down, and he does so-this time on the couch. Partly because he's a little indignant at being commanded but is in no position to refute any order, and partly because he simply wants a change in the view he gets. Sitting on the couch granted him a good view of the gardens outside-and he so very hoped to exalt in the radiance of the sun, breathe and taste fresh air and sprint across the lawn as he declares his freedom. Through this, he might just be able to rein in whatever temper he had that could flare-the prize was worth everything in the end. He so hopes that it would go smoothly and he could be emancipated from the restraints staying in a hospital placed on him. His release would bring him as much joy as the Emancipation Proclamation that Lincoln declared in 1863 brought to African-Americans.

The first thing he'd do after he had his little episode in the garden was to find a way to whatever residence he might own and be rid of his slovenly appearance.

He breaks out of his slight reverie as the doctor threw him a question. "Why should we allow you out of here?"

"Mr. Shin," He began slowly. "I want to leave the hospital. I'm here on the grounds that I... couldn't retain any memory of any previous day, aren't I? So... considering that I can remember who I am, what I did three years back and that I have memory of my deeds yesterday, shouldn't you consider letting me out of here?"

"You're Lee Jonghyun," Doctor Shin muttered. "I have to let you out of here if you can prove it."

"I'm willing to be subjected to questioning, if that's what it takes to get my liberty back," He shrugs simply as he leaned back into the couch and awaits the doctor's next move.

"Mr. Kim, you can leave now. I don't think we'll be having any incidents with him now," Doctor Shin dismisses the orderly, who bristles as he leaves with a grunt, muttering something about 'what a waste of time' under his breath in a mutinous manner. He waves the nurses to the side, and Jonghyun decides that he didn't like the doctor-he seemed too full of himself.

The doctor turned to face him as he speaks, "You want to allow an end to your ignominious existence, and I can entire sympathize with that."_ And obviously you won't be able to relate to that_, he thinks. "Now, since you're so insistent on them, I'll ask you a few questions. Firstly, what do you know about yourself? Your name, your birthdate, former career..."

He takes a deep breath to compose himself. He feels oddly compelled to wring the doctor's neck. "I'm Lee Jonghyun, born in Busan on the 15th of May, the year 1990. I was the lead guitarist and a vocalist in CNBLUE. Although... the band hasn't officially disbanded, has it?" He asked the last part worriedly.

Doctor Shin looks at the nurse standing in the corner, and she shakes her head at the unspoken question the doctor posed. Jonghyun heaves a sigh of relief. "Yoona didn't exactly tell me the specifics of what became of CNBLUE..." His voice trailed off. "Anyway, what else do you want to know? What's the time now, anyway?"

"It's nine in the morning. Alright, what was your last memory, before yesterday's memory?"

He closes his eyes, scrunching his face up. What was it anyway?

Flashes of the attack come to his mind, and her lovely face. His face scrunches up even more as he groped the sea of memories, and finally, he drags it up. He could revisit the details of the attack later.

"I remember the hospital," He whispers.

"I felt nothing, I was probably on drugs and a mountain of painkillers, and the light was glaring down on my face. I couldn't move. I... I... I had opened my eyes for those few seconds as I was gasping in shock and pain in the dream, I was trying to grasp onto the shore but I slipped. When I woke up, I think I had just left the shore. Then I closed my eyes again-I couldn't keep them open, somehow. I couldn't control my consciousness, and that was terrifying me. I was drifting in the sea again.

The sea was washing me out, further and further from the shore. I couldn't see anything anywhere. I drifted away from the pier as I got lost in the waves. It was pitch black. Oh yes, before yesterday, I'd wake up from dreams of darkness, in the cold sea. Then, yesterday, I dreamt of something different... Today, I saw the light..."

_He walks in the opposite direction, towards the brown mahogany shelf. A smile played on his face as he thinks of something he's been planning to do for a while—_

The dream had shifted again. He was flung out from inside of the warm comforts of the room he and Yoona was in, back into the sea.

He was once again thrashing about in the freezing waters. It was getting so very cold, it chilled his bones and he shivered in the water. Was it possible to shiver in the water? He went down under the water a few more times and he was spluttering as he resurfaced, spitting out mouthfuls of the salty water, wincing at the taste of the salinity in the liquid.

Then he spies a light in the distance, and her name appears once more in his foggy mind. The cold was even numbing his brain, he couldn't really think, but he hauls himself towards the light. A beacon of light on the shore. It wasn't a lighthouse, but he swims towards it nonetheless. He would welcome any alternative to near-drowning experiences.

He's finally on the sandy shore, and the light moves towards him, slowly-

The next moment, he's awake. All sleep had been gone from his mind, he's exhilarated by his new world. A newborn would cry, but forget all memories of the new world. He was no newborn, but he had wanted to whoop in joy and excitement, and above all, he could remember the memories of finding himself in this new world.

A pity, really. Why would babies want to forget the first moment that they arrive in this world? Did they really think that all the new sights, colours and smells were too much? In his opinion, abandoning the safety of a mother's womb to all this plethora of possibilities was worth so much more. Oh well, their loss. They didn't appreciate leaving the darkness enough to recall the new beauty that surrounded them.

"Doctor Shin, you should do something to relive the memory of taking your first breath in the world. The joy of seeing everything for the first time-it's wonderful," He muttered.

Doctor Shin cocks his head to the side. "I suppose so."

"You're just humouring me, it's not the weather we're talking about you know, Doctor. And I don't think I've lost my mind. I gave you my most recent memory-I was in the hospital."

"I'm feeling your desperation to leave," Doctor Shin muttered. "But, I think I know what you're getting at, though. A lot of allusions and metaphors... that might just be what you had been thinking. though. The sea, huh?"

"The sea is vast, and I heard that if you're shipwrecked, you shouldn't be able to see anything. In Titanic, they should've been blinded. The power of the ship should've failed, and those scrambling around in the lifeboats wouldn't be able to see anything. You can't see in the darkness, could you? The moon isn't bright enough for anything... Then again, I don't remember any moon in my hazy dreams. Do you know how bad it is to dream of the same scenes for three years? Not that I really remember what it feels like, but the thought of it positively makes me want to shudder," Jonghyun grumbles.

Doctor Shin nodded absently. "Although it goes against most of my professional ethics saying this, but I think you're ready to leave. You weren't ever one of the typical patients. And... there's some clause that mentioned your immediate release upon your regain of memory in the papers your agency and parents signed three years back. Maybe this place is getting to me, making me lose my mind and discharge a patient such as you," He joked.

Jonghyun gave a polite chuckle. "I suppose so, Doctor Shin. So... I can be released today? Seriously?" His eyes had lit up eagerly, as if he was a mere five year old and his favourite uncle has just offered him a huge lollipop.

"Well... yes. Nurse Ryun will bring you to the office to get your paperwork done. You'll need to come back for monthly appointments till we can properly certify you... healed, but for now I would be inclined to release you," Doctor Shin smiled warmly-which reminded Jonghyun of an iguana opening its mouth and he has to resist a shudder.

"I would hug you in joy and thankfulness, but..." He looked away from the doctor.

"I'm not a touchy feely person, so I'm grateful for your second thoughts," Doctor Shin said briskly, but Jonghyun saw the corners of his mouth twitching. He motions for Nurse Ryun to lead Jonghyun away, only later adding with an almost-shout to return the set of Jonghyun's old clothing so he could wear them.

* * *

"Minhyuk!" Jonghyun cries out, delighted at seeing the face of the drummer. "I haven't seen you... in well, since my memory is a bit faulty... I don't remember."

Minhyuk's face breaks into a wide smile, his eyes vanishing, as usual. The days in the army had allowed Minhyuk to acquire a slightly more bronzed and muscular physique. His sides of his eyes had the very slight beginnings of smile wrinkles. His shoulders were broader than they had ever been, and his arm muscles bulged slightly. He had just rushed up the steps with a frantic expression, oops. Looks like the hospital forgot to inform the poor guy of the purpose of his visit, courtesy of Jonghyun of course.

Jonghyun was wearing a set of his old clothes-a black denim jacket over a thin grey cotton shirt along with a pair of black jeans suspended by a belt. A grey acid wash denim backpack hung over his shoulders, carrying his manuscripts, notebooks and stationery. He didn't even know he had kept a journal back in the hospital for two and a half years, and had pictures and letters before he did a final sweep of his 'cell'. He had disposed of his old toothbrushes, towels, comb... everything that was part of a grooming kit went into the trash.

"Hyung! The hospital called me just a few minutes ago-I was driving near this area and they told me to rush here. Imagine my shock when they told me it was an emergency, and that they hung up before I could inquire as to the nature of the emergency! I was... worried that something terrible could've happened to-"

Jonghyun laughs. He delighted at the sunlight caressing his skin-this was joy beyond compare. "Slow down, Minhyuk! I did want to see your reaction to that. I'm not particularly used to human contact so my ears might be a bit rusty."

"Faulty memory and rusty hearing. Hyung, how many years have you aged inside, seriously? You aren't an octogenarian already, are you?" He pretends to have to examine Jonghyun hair. "No white hair in sight, but you need a haircut," He declares.

"I know I need a haircut. That's one of the things on top of my to-do list," Jonghyun muttered in reply.

"That's the spirit! Okay, we can do our catching up later during your haircut. For now, let's focus on getting into the car. I don't really want to dwell too long here. This place..."

"I get what you mean. I don't like the hospital anymore than you do even if I had somehow devoted years of my time here. Let's go then, shall we?" They start towards the general direction of the car park. "Say, when have you become so talkative?"

"I'm not usually like this," Minhyuk clarified. "It's just... three years of lost conversation with my hyung who's as mute as me. I _need _to get some of it out of my system."

The two let a moment of silence pass between them, before they simultaneously break out into guffaws. "I missed you, hyung. Truly. And since the sentimental bit in me is coming out right now... I might as well get this over with."

Jonghyun scoffed, "You had always been the most emotional out of the four of us. Let's not kid each other. Which is your car anyway?"

Minhyuk points at a cadet grey BMW. That car was Minhyuk's style through and through. It looked smart, simple, practical and clear-cut. He's comforted that Minhyuk's personality hadn't changed all that much, at least, it hadn't seemed to change all that much.

The two share a glance, and an unspoken challenge passes between them as they start racing towards the car. They both give howls and whoops and Jonghyun loses, as predicted. Even _before_, he couldn't ever beat Minhyuk, the one who was more interested in sports and games, in a race. Ah, well.

"You've gotten faster though, Hyung." Minhyuk gives him a comforting slap on the back. "Get in. I'll fill you in on everything, you would like that, wouldn't you?"

Jonghyun nods, grateful. He slips into the passenger side of the car, not once goading Minhyuk to let him drive.

* * *

After Minhyuk starts to drive, the first question Jonghyun asks was for Minhyuk to fill him in on all the members' lives. Other things could wait. Even Yoona. His heart still ached slightly for her, but he knew she would have to wait. Even though... he loved her, he wouldn't be able to see her right now and then. Pining after a person who wasn't in front of him while in the presence of a person he needed to catch up with wasn't the best idea a person could hatch.

"Well," Minhyuk began with a bite of his lip. "Whose life do you want to know about first? I feel like Yoona-telling you everything that had happened in three years. Just that we're not in that little room, of course."

"What about her?" He asks in an off-handed manner.

"She was always the one who had to answer questions about you. What happened that day, what you did in the hospital, your current status... et cetera. I hope you don't blame me for not visiting everyday," Minhyuk sighed, his expression contrite.

"No, no. Of course I don't blame you," Jonghyun assures. "You have a life anyway. Poor Yoona..." He added the last part in a murmur. "Anyway, since I'm not playing the blame game with you, I would like to hear about your life first. Then Jungshin's or hyung's, your choice."

Minhyuk chuckled. "I missed your no nonsense attitude, hyung. Truly. Yonghwa and Jungshin joked around too much, or at least, they try to. My life? Before we went to the army... most of our lives were similar. We were, of course, devastated with what happened to you, naturally. Yoona was distraught... But let's not talk about your devoted girlfriend. We didn't really know what to do. Jungshin and I wrapped up the last acting projects we did before our enlistment-you recall the two movies that we were shooting, right? Yonghwa finished producing N. Flying's song, and off we popped to the military."

Minhyuk sighed before continuing his verbal deluge. "It was a terrible period for us-an all time low."

He gave a slightly sheepish chuckle. "Should I apologize for falling down the stairs?"

"Of course you shouldn't, and don't interrupt with your ever so witty comments, Lee Jonghyun-ssi."

"Ouch."

Minhyuk ignored him. "When we got to the military, we were wallowing inside with the loss of well, you. We had always said that we'd go to the military together-by the way, you're exempted from the military because of 'mental health issues', not that you're a nutter, but the fact remains that you had been committed to some sort of sanatorium. At least we were always occupied with training activities-we were too busy to think about anything else. Yonghwa-hyung missed both you and my twin Seo Joohyun. Jungshin and I got so much second-hand embarrassment watching him play the part of a lovesick, miserable git."

"During my breaks in the army, I went to a couple of SM gatherings-Hyung attended them so he dragged the two of us along with him. In the second gathering I attended, Yoona and I were chatting when Soojung came, we got reacquainted, chatted for a bit and Yoona abandoned us and I somehow asked her out, and she accepted."

"So you call her Soojung now?" Jonghyun mused. "What's she to you now? Tell me later. I'm really curious."

"She and I are engaged now," Minhyuk chuckled. "Of course, it took a lot of guts on my part... but Soojung has a nice heart underneath, contrary to your beliefs. We are getting married in a month, and since I'm going to force you to come, I might just have to add a new best man to the list."

He scoffed. Inside, he was slightly cheered by the fact that Minhyuk might ask him to act as a best man. He relished the idea of exposing the deepest, darkest and most embarrassing secrets the younger man had. He is comforted by the fact that Minhyuk still regarded him as someone important. "I hadn't ever held the belief that she was the evil Snow Queen. I have to refresh your memory-that had been Jungshin. How's he around your dear Fiancee now?"

"Less chicken, more guts. After going to the army, Jungshin's gotten a lot tougher. He's less shy around girls now. After we left the army, I got engaged by the sixth month while hyung and Jungshin went gallivanting off over the world. Jungshin did a bit of modeling work, acting work, brushed up on his English-he's the best English speaker out of the four of us now. He can do the Londoner and a standard American accent. And he took a few photography classes. And thus fashion photographer Jungshin was born... He dates. But the girls on his arm changes as often as he would need to clear his camera memory. Not that he's a serial dater or anything... But he gets girls ridiculously easily now its a joke. Jungshin's making quite a name for himself. He's done two fashion films, and he's at Hollywood now doing aiding in some movie shooting. Apparently, he's also a costumer."

"Yonghwa-hyung and Jungshin were abroad together for four months before Yonghwa-hyung returned for Joohyun. Let's just say that they got married before you could blink. And don't look at me like that-it wasn't a shotgun wedding. He's still writing songs and doing acting work. And he's still employed at FNC, teaching the new trainees."

"What about you, what do you do?" Jonghyun prodded.

"Me? Backtracking a bit, I went backpacking with Soojung in Europe for a month after our engagement. I'm still acting nowadays, but I do some writing now and there. I'm a reviewer, and I write articles for some magazines. I take courses in an online university on writing. Soojung's teaching me English too."

"You, a reviewer?" Jonghyun frowned. "Although you're a perfectionist... last I remembered was that you had always been a mild mannered person."

"That hasn't changed," Minhyuk assured, grinning. "But I can express my dissatisfaction better now, that's all."

"The world has changed quite a bit, hasn't it?" Jonghyun gave a rueful sigh, and Minhyuk looked discomfited at that.

"How do you feel about it, really?"

"I'm not actually sure how I feel about the accident. It's snatched away so much of my life. But I suppose, I get exempted from the army, and I'm saved three years of pain, great huh?" They both smile awkwardly at his poor attempt of a joke. He sighed again. There was much sighing to be done these days. "We had so much ahead of us, the world was ours to conquer... Three years later, it feels as if I've aged a million years, not three. I don't know what's up and happening, I've not kept up with the news... nothing. Even if I had aged a million years, my brain seems to have regressed to that of a child."

"I'm driving, so my brain's not processing what you've said quickly enough. Care to enlighten me?"

"Actually, I'm not wholly sure of what I'm trying to get at. Okay, my body's aged, that's definite. I don't even have proper abs anymore, but I still have a flat abdomen. I have no knowledge of the current world, and yet, the shock of having lost three years of my life made me do quite a fair bit of soul-searching, even if it's a 'less than 24 hours' sort of soul-searching. To be honest, I think I've become more cynical." His conclusion comes with another sigh.

"Maybe," Minhyuk nods. "Okay, we're going to my place first, get you a change of clothes. Wait, we could just cancel your haircut, unless you want it done professionally, of course? Soojung's hairstyling skills are decent enough. I mean, she cuts her own fringe..."

Jonghyun nods, giving in. He doesn't even contest the decision-it didn't really matter how he got his hair cut. "Do I still have apartment in Seoul...?"

"I was wondering when that question would come up. That Gangnam apartment of yours is occupied by Jungshin when he's around. He takes a good care of it, really. It'd be a waste to let it stay empty anyway... But none of your clothes are still there, if you recall."

"They are _still_ at Yoona's place?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes," Minhyuk nods. "She... hasn't yet gotten around to breaking up with you yet, has she?"

"I won't remember," Jonghyun snapped. "But seeing she visits me daily, I don't think so." He changes the topic. "What do all the girls-as in those the romantics in us are interested in, do nowadays?"

"Taking you up to speed is a difficult thing. Soojung's mine now, obviously, and she's doing a fair bit of modelling work, everything to do with showbiz, teaches dancing at SM... Joohyun has gone back to college, which is nothing that falls short of expectations, on political science..."

* * *

Krystal's eyes grew as large as saucers when she saw Minhyuk walk in with Jonghyun. She stood there, staring with her mouth agape as the duo walked in, Minhyuk smiling all the time to calm Jonghyun's nerves. He wasn't sure that she'd react positively to his coming. He wasn't sure why he was nervous-he just was. He was always the social recluse.

"Jonghyun?" She manages finally, still stunned.

"Yah, Soojung-ah. You're calling 'Jonghyun' first, before greeting your fiancée? I'm hurt," He made a face, pouting slightly. Jonghyun pretended to gag.

She turned to face Minhyuk and frowned, hurriedly pulling her tangled long hair into a messy bun and smoothed her shirt. "Don't you dare start. You're in so much trouble right now, springing a visitor on me early in the morning!" She amends quickly. "Not exactly 'early in the morning', but I just woke up!" She walked forward and flashed a smile at Jonghyun-even in her bed hair and overlarge shirt, she still looked charming enough. A little too domestic for him to be comfortable, but since he was in their domicile, he'd have to make himself calm down. "Sorry Jonghyun... What should I be doing now? Should I be hugging you?"

He laughed. She was funny that way.

"The two of you, you hurt my feelings," She grumbled. "It's three years and I don't get a hug, and you laugh at me now? Ugh, I don't get why I agreed to let you put a ring on my finger..." She turned away and sat on the white living room sofa. The house was so _them_-interior designed, beautiful, neat, modern and yet welcoming. The minimalism didn't extend completely to the colour scheme, what with the mix of neutral tones in wall paint colour.

"I'll let you give me a hug," Minhyuk placated. "I'll even give you a kiss. And you know you love me." He walked forward and planted a kiss on Krystal's face.

"You should be glad I've not eaten anything yet," Jonghyun tried his best not to gag. "I'm still... not single, but not exactly sure of my relationship status-so I'd rather not watch blatant displays of affection."

Krystal sighed contently. "Sorry Jonghyun. If you must know, Yoona is still somehow pretty hung-up on you... not that I'd understand why. Minhyuk-ah, someone from FNC has dropped off a drama script for you, it's written by Choi Ho Chul. I looked at it-it's plot is good." She averted her eyes from him even as she said that.

Minhyuk simply chuckled. "Do I have some romantic link with someone else in that drama?"

She nodded, looking down. She began playing with her perfectly manicured pink nails.

* * *

He thinks of The Titanic, the way the lights failed and everything plunged into darkness. The hull's loud and resounding cracking as its volume overwhelmed even the terrified, abject screaming of the passengers. Was it so much different from what happened to him? His life shattered within seconds as they caused his life to cascade into such blackness. Maybe it wasn't similar, but he wants to indulge in some victim mentalities before he sorts his life out. At this point in time, he might just be able to relate every tragic accident in the history and pre-history of mankind with his woeful little life.

Exactly twenty-nine days pass. Twenty nine days and his heart aches daily. And especially so at night, when he stares up at the ceiling, in the darkness of the room. Alone. Cold and alone. The room was always warm according to the thermostat, but he still shivers under the covers. His skin retains the pallid, papery shade of white even though he makes it a point to walk under the sun at every opportunity he gets. The cold finally begins to descend, seeping into his bones. It was October-but he had to wear a thick jacket, zip it up on rainy days, to keep himself from shivering.

He has reacquainted himself with the ceiling of his room. He hasn't even _seen_ Yoona these twenty-nine days. Krystal and Minhyuk were the ones delivering his belongings. They were packed in the same large black suitcase he had used to cart his stuff to her house three and a half years back. They gave him pitying, apologetic looks, but didn't divulge anything more. He didn't see much of them either, them putting the final touches to their wedding.

He hasn't seen much of anyone really.

And that _thing_, still sat in the bottom of the shaver kit. A velvet box.

He hasn't deigned it fit to throw it away, or present it to her. He didn't know what to do with it.

Currently, he plays with the box, juggling it along with another present he had intended to give her-a snow globe for the sake of giving a snow globe. Well, not really. It was something he had bought recently, really. On the fifth day of his release. The papers were swarming with the news about his current 'sane' mental state-not that he was ever the alternative, but he had stepped into a shopping mall nonetheless and picked this pretty little knick-knack out, where a castle sits inside. He's even written a note to accompany the gift.

* * *

_For all the times I tried for this_  
_And every chance at you I missed_  
_I've been known to go my way, but I confess_  
_It made me miss you more_

_I drew my line across the sand_  
_And set my flag in no man's land_  
_But here I am the one man band_  
_With a song that's meant for two_

_And there is a light, from a higher window_  
_Shining down on you tonight_  
_And the music floats on the breeze_  
_Bringing an easier time_  
_And all of our cards are on the table_  
_Tell me what you want to do_  
_Just don't tell me that it's too late_

_For me to love you_

_-Higher Window_

_Hey, Yoona. I know it's not something I wrote by myself- but would you... accept this globe? Yes? Forgive me for not being by your side. I miss you._

* * *

Of course, like the coward he was, he hasn't ever given it to her. He was a freaking coward. He's seen the online articles, the rumours that circulated around the grapevine that she's been serial dating, hopping from guy to guy. He wonders why she does that-has she changed? He's entertained alternate answers. Maybe she's _wanting_ to move on, but not being able to. Somehow, he's saddened even by the second answer.

He so yearns for a place in her heart, but he doesn't know whether she'd be receptive to him. He's a coward. He's never admitted that before, but he was. Too cowardly to reach out and pull someone closer, too cowardly to declare his love for her at the top of his voice. Too cowardly to love, aloud.

He staggers off the sofa, clearing the room of the clutter around him.

Jungshin would be coming back later tonight, just in time for the wedding. The guy _was _successful, a person who spent too much time on planes trying to get from one city to another, fashion magazine shootings, fashion week coverage, press conferences, photographing celebrities... He lived a glamorous life, really. Jungshin, that 'mundane', 'normal' kid he once was, transformed into a world-wide wonder, a world-wide photography-newcomer sensation. He shakes his head at how many 'best newcomer' titles Jungshin's been given in the photography side of the industry.

He hears a noise outside a door. Was Jungshin back yet? He moves to open the door. He's still reckless, opening doors without looking through the peepholes, or the camera.

The sight that greeted him gave him a slack jaw. The other party's eyes simply went wide, terror evident in her soft doe eyes. Why is she always so scared when she saw him nowadays? He thought bitterly. Her eyes dart around, as if looking for some escape. For a moment, none of them do anything, simply remaining rooted to the spot.

"Well, aren't you going to invite me in?" She finally tries.

He nodded, curtly, as he stepped aside and waved her in. He could feel her appraising the surroundings, notice the snow globe and the piece of paper that was turned down on the table, a single half-empty glass of water, an open book beside the paper. The velvet box was left under a cushion on the sofa, thank god. He didn't know what to do with it, didn't want to see her reaction to it. The rejection would affirm the reality, and crush his heart to fine specks of powder.

"Uhh... You can sit," He offered. He himself sits down on a chair. A tense, heavy silence settles between them. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"It's fine," She mutters.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He heads to the kitchen to pull out a granola bar. Heavens knows when the last time he ate was. He didn't keep a schedule for himself; much less maintain healthy eating and sleeping hours. He takes out a piece of matcha mochi from the fridge as well and puts it on the plate-for her.

He walks back out and hands her the plate. "Do you still like these things?"

She nodded. "Yeah, you remember?"

"Of course I do. Remember, my memory's the one of three years back?" He had to restrain from snapping, but she caught the tenseness in his shoulders, the almost-bite in his voice.

"Sorry," She muttered.

"God, I hate the words 'memory' and 'remember'," He muttered.

"Good, I dislike them too."

He smirks. "How many times have you heard those words in the past three years, really?"

His question comes out playfully, but she frowned. She pretends to think. "A billion."

He chortles. "That's terrible, I can't imagine. You should really eat the mochi though, it's really good."

"How have you been, really?" She takes a bite into the mochi and her eyes light up at the taste and texture of that little piece of goodness. If the non-sweet-tooth otherwise known as Lee Jonghyun found them good, they would taste even better to her.

"You're asking me, this? It's been a walk in the park. I've gone for ever so many walks in the park," -_alone_- "That I've been getting a little fitter from my time at the hospital. Then I've been trying to sort out things. I've been trying to live life as a normal person would and could, going shopping, eating, sleeping..."

"No, how have you really been?"

He deflects the question. No, she didn't need to know how he lived in a black hole of emptiness. "You?"

"I've been... Adjusting."

"What have you got to adjust to?" He demands, suddenly angry. Good, this was him feeling _something_ other than a mountain of sentimental shite. "You've been coping fine, without me I might add, for the last three years! Three years should be enough time-"

"Well, I haven't!"

"Oh, really? Then what feeds all the stories I've been hearing about? A player, a whore-oh, don't be offended now. Besides, that's what everyone else calls you, not me. Save your tears for someone who cares. I'd say you've been coping really well. A string of guys to balance your emotional-"

"Don't raise your voice at me like that! Can we move on, from me? Considering that you've been able to dredge up every single minute detail of my _private _life, and I've not been able to do so about yours, tell me about your life!"

"Fine. I've been sorting out money issues. It's been great, it's been terrible. The freaking world has moved on. It's confusing, trying to take the subway at times. Seoul has moved on, so far, so much. Everyone gawks at me, even though I've gotten a proper haircut, wearing proper clothes that follow the current trend in Seoul-they look at me as they had three years back! Like I'm a specimen in the zoo." His voice is bitter, and he knows it.

"Was that really what you wanted to hear then?" She is averting his eyes. "Well, then there's another thing. _You._ I've never even seen you-even though we've never technically broken up. Soojung and Joohyun tell me things about you, saying that you were pretty cut up over me. But I don't see that, do I? You've never even been to see me-"

"I'm here now, aren't I," She said flatly. He tries not to flinch.

"Well, you asked, didn't you? I've told you my side of the story." He sits down, tears the packet of granola open violently and takes an angry crunch. He feels his teeth bite his tongue and tasted the sour-salty copper taste of blood as it mingled with the sweetness of the Canadian-maple syrup flakes of oat.

"Then learn some manners, or tact! For God's sake..." She shook her head. "What do you think I've been doing?"

"Well, I doubt that you could take walks in the park, not when everyone knows you like they know me without having to delve into bushes to hide from the paparazzi. Surprise me?"

"You're infuriating. We are still, a couple, are we not?"

"Well."

"Don't give me that attitude! I've been trying to give you time, space-"

"Time and space? I don't need it! I had years of time and space, tossed down the drain, and now that I can, and that I want to do something about it, you disappear into freaking outer space!"

"Stop interrupting! I'm here now, let me finish!"

Well that was true, he concedes. But he's not backing down. "You've been with your latest little conquest, then?"

"Grow up! Stop being so freaking childish! I'm trying to talk here!" She glares at him, but he could see the glint of tears in her eyes. He tears his gaze away and takes another loud crunch of the bar.

"Did you really think that I haven't missed you, at all?"

He looks back up, anger dissipating.

"Yeah."

"You're wrong. What do you feel? Heavens, I don't have any goddamned idea of what _you_ feel. You've been alienated from me for so long! What am I supposed to do? I didn't have any idea... I waited for you to call..." She's rambling now. If she continues, he knows that she'd cry.

"Hush," He grabs that paper off the table and thrusts it to her. He throws the snow globe into her hands and she gazes at him in surprise. "Read and shush."

He wants to throw himself off a cliff now. Damn it. He feels as if he'd need to rush to the nearest porcelain throne soon.

She doesn't say anything, but lets out a soft 'oh'. "I've... missed you too then."

"Thanks," He muttered.

"Forgive me," She muttered as well. He crosses the distance between them and leaned towards the cushion, pulling out the box. Her eyes widen even further.

"You should forgive me," He starts. "That the presentation of this is delayed by three years and nine months. I've been busy for the entire month, getting my attackers to justice. They're all safely in jail now, save for the mastermind who's hanged himself... Forgive me for telling you this now," he said softly. "I'm no romantic, and that's why I hope that you'd forgive me. Considering we've missed each other so badly, and that... we should solve all these issues together-take this... ring?"

He opens the box. Inside, a white-gold ring sits on the plush cushioning. The band holds a purple diamond in the centre, the sides of it glistening with blue topazes-he had heard that they were fairly rare.

"You..." She starts, but he doesn't want her to finish, he was still nervous.

"I... erm, had planned this for Wine Day...then. Care to accept my proposal?"

"You didn't even ask," She laughed shakily. "But you don't even care about dates..."

"Such an event was special enough. I can't imagine the devastation of the restaurant owner when he found out that I was taken to a hospital. I had promised him quite a fortune to leave the restaurant empty during our patronage there. So, marry me?"

Another shaky laugh. "Yes. I'm so glad you're back." Well, Minhyuk and Krystal's wedding wouldn't be the only one coming soon.

He nodded. "I welcome you back into my life." He slipped it onto her ring finger, and she stares at it in wonder before he decides the ring was stealing the limelight from him and kissed her lips softly, hesitantly. The ring has waited three years to show itself, but he's not giving it any more of the attention. It could wait for her to admire it later. For now, her lips were little buds that craved his worship.

And they were soft, pliant and perfect.

Just as he remembered.

* * *

_O, never say that I was false of heart, _  
_Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify._  
_As easy might I from myself depart _  
_As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie: _  
_That is my home of love: if I have ranged, _  
_Like him that travels I return again, _  
_Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,_  
_So that myself bring water for my stain. _  
_Never believe, though in my nature reign'd _  
_All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, _  
_That it could so preposterously be stain'd, _  
_To leave for nothing all thy sum of good; _  
_For nothing this wide universe I call, _  
_Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all._

_**Sonnet 109 **__- William Shakespeare_

* * *

**A/N: If you have any questions regarding the flow of the story, you can ask about it the comments :)**

**Please comment if you liked it! Even if it's just a "I liked it", I'd still be happy to see it in the comments :)**

**Side Note: **Does it get obvious that my biases are Minhyuk and Jonghyun? I love Yonghwa and Jungshin... But. Yeah.

I did promise this chapter to be considerably more lighthearted than the previous one, didn't I?

I'm frankly rather disappointed with this chapter (Sighs. I DID rush the ending, really.). I'm PROBABLY going to post a new story soon, it's completely unrelated to idol life. It's as if they weren't who they are now-those fics are pretty common after all (and more relatable, damn it. I can't bloody envision idol life properly) so do look out for it!

Another fact: Inclusive of the quotes and exclusive of my notes and the title, this is exactly 15000 words :) Thanks for being with me, being patient for the 2nd update!

**If you spot any noticeable, jarring, horrid error, PLEASE tell me.**


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